


we are the kids that you never can kill

by rebellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Road Trips, clarke is in her feels the whole time tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6672394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebellamy/pseuds/rebellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke thought maybe, the Blakes were geniuses. Bringing her back to a place where happy memories could exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are the kids that you never can kill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marauders_groupie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/gifts).



> so most of this is just subconscious rambling and me trying too seem all symbolic or whatever but honestly I just wanted these losers in a beach setting. And I wanted it finished so I could wish lana a very happy birthday. She's on of my biggest supporters and a huge inspiration of mine.

 i.

Jake Griffin died on a thursday afternoon in the later part of April. They’d been expecting it for a while now, but it still carved a hole into the hearts of those closest to him, especially Clarke, who had only lost her best friend just three years prior.

 

The funeral was nice, she guessed, as far as funerals went, but even after accepting the closure her mother had insisted would help, she didn’t feel entirely complete. She spent most of the days following his death holed up in her room, ordering pizza’s she’d let get cold and painting sad things about how she wasn’t dealing with anything.

 

Octavia snuck in through her window one afternoon to check on her.

 

“O, I can’t hang out today. I couldn’t yesterday, and I can’t tomorrow. Don’t you get it?” She said, trying to conceal the lump in her throat as she buried herself further under her blankets. It was only six.   

 

“That’s not it, Clarke,” the younger girl confessed. “We’re worried about you.”

 

“Who’s we?”   

 

“Me, Raven, Jasper, Nate, Monty, Bellamy-”

 

“Bellamy’s worried?” Clarke cut her off.

 

“You may not be the best of friends, but he’s not an asshole, Clarke. He does care about you, you know?” His younger sister defended, slumping behind Clarke on her bed.

 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m being a dick,” Clarke sighed, rolling over to face her friend. “Tell him thanks.”

 

Octavia took it as sincere gratitude and ran with it.

 

“You know how our mom bought that cheap old beach house a few summers ago?” She asked after a long silence had fallen over the room, trying to segway into her proposition.

 

“What about it?” Clarke asked, scrunching her eyebrows.

 

“Bell and I were thinking about going, you know, just the three of us,” she continued, weaving her fingers through Clarke’s unwashed hair.

 

The blonde seemed to consider the offer for a minute, staring off at something Octavia couldn’t be sure of, looking puzzled.  


“I really don’t know, I just- I’ve been having a tough time, you know, with everything and I don’t want-” the brunette pressed a finger to her friend’s chapped lips, silencing her.

 

“All the more reason to go. It will be good for you, Clarke. You love the beach. And Bell already okayed it with Abby; she agrees with me, by the way.” She could hear the slight smirk in her voice. Getting Abby Griffin to agree with someone was as hard of a challenge as they come.

 

“This was Bellamy’s idea?” Clarke asked, suspicious.

 

“Partially,” the other girl sing-songed, sitting up a little straighter. “Like I said, he actually does give a shit about you. He liked to pretend like he’s an emotionless sack of dicks but deep down he’s a huge softie. You’ll see.”

 

“I’ll see, huh?” Clarke asked, uttering her first sliver of a chuckle in days.

 

“Yeah, when you come to the beach with us.”

 

Clarke heaved out a sigh, not in the mood to let her friend down. “When do we leave?”

 

“I knew you’d come around,” she doted, ruffling her hair. “We leave saturday. Pack for two weeks. We go big or not at all, babe.”

 

And Clarke smiled at that, hugging her best friend and thanking her.

 

-

 

Three days later, after Clarke had done more than her share of crying, and plenty of packing, the three of them pile into the cab of Bellamy’s old baby blue 67 chevy pickup at four in the morning, toss their stuff into the back, kiss their mothers goodbye and hit the road.

 

Bellamy and Octavia fight over what to listen to. Clarke doesn’t mind though, she listens to whatever. Though she might be reluctant to admit that she does prefer Bellamy’s taste in music over his sisters.

 

They stop at a few diners on the way, munching on fries and making conversation about things that don’t involve hospital beds, coffins, or anything absolute like dying.

 

It wasn’t that Bellamy and Clarke ever hated each other. They’d always just been distant. They never hung out without Octavia or someone else from their mutual circle of friends, and they were always bickering about anything they could find themselves opposed on. It was all in good nature, but it didn’t exactly make for a great bonding experience.

 

He had so far managed to keep to himself for the entirety of the trip down to Florida. She was impressed.

 

After they’d finished lunch and then gassed up for the rest of the ride, Clarke stretched her legs across the laps of both Blake’s and dozed off to the sound of the tires hitting asphalt and Bellamy humming along to The Cranberries.  It was a nice feeling.

 

When she wakes again, Octavia is shaking her shoulder, and she looks out and sees a clear view of the ocean, behind a little grey house with an ugly yellow fence out front.

 

“Clarke,” Her friend practically shouts. “Clarke, babe, we’re here. Bell took our stuff inside already.”

 

She rubbed her eyes and smiled sleepily at her friend, following her out of the car and into the beach house. They then heard Bellamy let out a loud curse and call for his sister. She came back two minutes later chewing on her bottom lip.

 

“What is it?”

 

“So it slipped our minds that this place literally only has two bedrooms. One with a twin and one with a queen.”

 

Clarke put the pieces of the puzzle together pretty quickly after that.

 

“Let me guess, you won't share with him because it's icky and now he and I are going to have to hash it out over which one of us will take the couch?”

 

“Bingo,” Octavia sang, ruffling Clarke’s hair and sauntering into the kitchen to stock some of the snacks they’d picked up on the way.

 

Clarke wandered into the bedroom closest to her, knocking twice on the doorframe and startling Bellamy.

 

“Hey, um, I can take the couch. I know that you probably-”

 

“Bellamy don’t be ridiculous-”

 

“You’re not taking the couch,” He said, cutting her off. “I’m insisting that you take the bed.”

 

“And I’m insisting that we share,” she countered, a matter of fact tone in her voice. “We’re adults, and apparently the last time you slept on the couch anywhere, Octavia said you wouldn’t shut up about your back for days afterwards. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

 

He didn’t say anything else, only offered her a shrug and started unpacking some of his stuff into the closet. She left before she could catch herself staring at his back.

 

-

 

Later, after they’d gotten all settled in, the three of them walked down to the beach. The area they were in didn’t really have a lot of visitors, mostly just a lot of retired couples that came down here for the summer. So it was basically just them and the ocean.  

 

The late afternoon sun was almost scorching, making the sand hot to the touch, and making the water just warm enough to tolerate.

 

Bellamy watched as Octavia tried her damndest to make Clarke put on some sunblock, much to no avail.

 

Clarke never liked wearing sunblock, she much prefered to let herself bake in the hot sun, as much as her mother always told her it was bad for her skin, she always liked the stinging feeling of cold aloe vera on her shoulders after a long day out in the sun.

 

And even Bellamy had to admit that tanlines she always sported on her shoulders were incredibly attractive.

 

The girls decided to have a race through the waves, and Bellamy was to be the judge, so he sat down on the shoreline and watched carefully, with a smile on his face because, believe it or not, he was actually happy Clarke was having fun.

 

She looked as though she was born to be in the water. She moved with the waves like she was raised to dance among them. She swam fast and steady against the current, ducking under the waves, twisting and turning as she saw fit. It was pretty amazing to say the least.

 

It made him wonder why he’d ever disliked her. He’d always thought maybe that it was because she’d come from wealth, or that she took Octavia under her wing when there was guy trouble. Or maybe even the fact that she fit in so well with his friends.

 

Maybe he hadn’t liked her because he didn’t want to recognize how incredible she was.

 

But none of that really mattered, because he didn’t dislike her anymore; he hadn't for a while. He wanted to be friends with her, if that was really even the right word. And he was trying. This trip was some kind of start.

 

Clarke and his sister came splashing back up to the beach, hair sticking to the sides of their faces and salt on their skin, the sun reflecting off of them, making Clarke’s blonde waves seem to glow.

 

She was beautiful in a different way than he found Octavia to be. Octavia looked so much like their mother, and she had kind eyes and a heart of gold. She was beautiful in a way that scared him. That made him feel like someone might steal her away one day, that she’d run off and he’d be left with nothing. But, needless to say, he saw Clarke a lot differently.

 

Clarke was radiant, when she was happiest, had this presence about her that lit up the whole world. She was so much bigger than everything else. She picked up people and stories along the way and carried them with her, making her so full and intriguing. She was the kind of beautiful that could make someone want to know everything; her story, her opinions, her mind. And he wanted to. Because she was like an ocean waiting to be explored.

 

Bellamy loved to swim.  

 

 

Clarke had thought going to bed with Bellamy would be kind of awkward. But it wasn’t, not really. Both too tired from the day to take notice to the sparse clothing the other was wearing. Clarke in one of her thinnest t-shirts from college and some tight sleep shorts, and Bellamy in only a pair of boxers.

 

They’d put on fresh sheets, and the cool white cotton fabric felt refreshing on Clarke’s scorched skin, putting her to sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She could only assume the same of Bellamy.

 

She was glad the Blakes had decided to invite her. She had really needed this, after everything. The beach had always calmed her, and weirdly enough, so did Bellamy and Octavia. Being around people that loved each other as much as they did always comforted her.

 

When she woke up the morning after, he was already out of bed, and she tried to stop herself from rolling over onto his side to soak up his warmth.

 

She didn’t have very strong willpower, to say the least.

 

A couple days later, after a couple nights of totally unintentional cuddling and the three of them piling onto the couch to binge watch Lost (which was honestly a terrible idea considering they were spending two weeks on a beach with practically nobody else around.), they hopped into Bellamy’s truck and drove a few miles down the coast to find a good spot to hunt for seashells.  

 

Clarke had missed doing this. It made her nostalgic over summers spent with the Jaha’s. She and Wells collecting seashells and chasing sand crabs, young and careless. Her dad had always been there, watching with a warm smile.

 

She, Bellamy and Octavia waded ankle deep into the water, bending at the waist to search for treasures. She glanced over at Bellamy from time to time, who almost always sported a smug grin, producing a new found shell.

 

“That one's cracked,” she pointed out, criticizing the shells he showed her by way of competing with him. This was who they were.

 

“But it's still beautiful,” he supplied, running his fingers along the edge of it. “Kind of like you.”

 

And she didn't think he meant for her to hear, but she had. She smiled and looked away, trying not to let his words set to heavy on her heart.

 

Octavia watched from a safe distances as her brother and her best friend carried on with their weird flirting. It had been like this ever since the younger Blake could recall. A fierce, endless competition between the two of them. Always trying to one up the other. They’d always pretended like the feud was fueled with hatred, but Octavia knew. She knew that each of them cared, in their own way. They had just needed a push.

 

Bellamy was slowly losing himself in her, if he was honest. He watched her sift through wet sand, picking out the bits of things she found most interesting. And he thought about his life and hers. How they’d both had to sort out a whole world of ugly, gritty, disturbances and grief to get to where they were now.

 

His stepfather had been a drunk, before he walked out. And the marks he left on his mother made his stomach turn and his eyes well up with tears, his fingers curling into punches he was too afraid to throw. But he had given him Octavia, so he was pretty grateful among the resentment.

 

Just as Clarke, who was faced with her father's death, but knew that if she needed it, she had the support of her friends to fall back on.

 

She was another seashell for him. A beautiful part of something that used to be more. A shard from a past life of something that used to live freely, but had been given a new purpose. To be admired, to be lifted up by those around it.

 

But he knew that could never be all that Clarke amounted to. Because it wasn't. She wasn't just something people were to cherish. To him she was something that made him feel more whole. Like that part of his seashell that he found that had chipped off, hadn't mattered as much as he had once thought.

 

When they lay next to each other that night, she told him she had heard what he said. For a moment he felt his heart lurch to a stop in his chest. Dreading that she somehow read his mind. That perhaps she was angry with him. But instead she laced their hands together.

 

“Thanks. I forgot how to feel beautiful, with all my broken bits still here.”

 

It had meant more to Clarke than he could ever know. For all those days of her closing herself up in her bedroom, the biggest part of her felt unlovable. Because bad things happened to people who cared for her. It seemed as though all the tragedies she’d collected had subtracted a part of her, and stolen some of her value along with them.

 

But Bellamy, though seemingly without much intention, had reminded her that she could still feel beautiful.

 

For some reason it felt nicer coming from him.

 

“Promise me one thing though?” she asked, slipping her fingers away from his. His brows furrowed suddenly. “Don't ever fall in love with a girl like me. You shouldn't have to remind her to feel beautiful. She should already know.”

 

He didn't know what to say.

 

But he couldn't find it in himself to confess that it might already be too late.

 

iii.

 

Clarke had walked into this trip thinking that nothing would change. That she and Bellamy would still be indifferent towards one another, and she would still feel empty. But both of those things had changed so far.

 

Sure, she was still heartbroken over Jake. And maybe she was starting to feel like pushing Bellamy away would be easier than letting him in. But she was certainly better off than she had been a week ago.

 

Wells would have told her that today was a day meant for surfing. The wind was nice, the sky was clear and the swells were huge. She remembered his smile being just as big. Her dad cheering them on to race back to the shore.

 

Clarke thought maybe, the Blakes were geniuses. Bringing her back to a place where happy memories could exist. A place without the lingered whispers from hospital phone calls and unsung goodbyes. A place without letters in the mail telling her her best friend was killed in action when he’d promised to stay safe. A place without girlfriends calling to say that things really weren't working out, and that Clarke needed to figure herself out before she could figure out how to love someone.

 

Sure, not all of these things happened at once. But they all happened right there in Ark. But what happened here? What happened now?

 

Clarke let herself remember all the good memories. The best ones. And she even allowed some new ones to be made.

 

Like skinny dipping with Octavia in the freezing night air, or catching more fish than Bellamy on the pier, forgotten ice cream cones melting in their hands as the three of them reminisced high school days. Like Octavia getting the hot guy from the surf shops number, and Bellamy pretending not to worry or care. Like piling on the couch with her two friends, carrying on smiling into the night because they let her forget that she was hurting.

 

She’d even remember learning to love Bellamy’s smile, his nature, his heart.

 

Even if she wished she hadn’t.

 

Tomorrow would be their last night. So Octavia had proposed they have a bonfire. A big burning mess of wood and smoke that would be sure to put them all in good spirits. It perfectly mirrored the whole trip, in Clarke’s opinion.

 

They tore through three bags of funyuns, and drank more than their share of beers well before their first two hours by the fire had expired. They threw their heads back in laughter as they recounted the trip's highlights. It was one for the books, Clarke decided. One of the good memories she’d let herself hold onto

“I'm beat,” Octavia announced, standing to dust the sand off her short clad legs with a yawn. “I'm gonna head in for the night. You two kids have fun now.”

 

“Never thought you’d be bested by exhaustion,” Clarke laughed, halfheartedly chucking and empty beer can at the other girls feet.

 

“Clean up before you come in, assholes,” Octavia slurred, smiling goofily at them. “And for fucks sake, do something about the awful tension.”

 

She left without another word, her statement hanging in the air between them as they watched her stumble back to the house.

 

Bellamy looked over at Clarke then, who was picking at her ink black toenail polish, her hair covering her face.

 

“Thank you for this,” she said after a beat, still not looking up. “Octavia told me this whole thing was your idea.”

 

He let out a long breath. It felt like he’d been holding it the entire trip.

 

“I know I was always kind of an ass to you back home, but seeing you waste away in your room like that was killing me. I've always given a shit, Clarke. I just never knew how to show it.”

 

“So what makes it so easy for you here?” she asked, finally glancing up at him with eyes as blue as the sea, as merciless as the tide.

 

“You’re in your element here. You're comfortable. And I guess that makes me more comfortable being around you,” he shrugged. He could kick himself for giving her such a lame answer. “I mean, that I knew you'd feel better here. And I don’t want it to come off like some stupid big gesture or anything, I just want you to smile. For you. Not because your mom needed you to, or anyone else.”

 

“That really means a lot,” she told him, letting herself reach over and grab his hand like she had a few nights ago. When she made told him not to love her.

 

“Anytime.”

 

They were quiet for a while then. Just staring at the ocean through the fire.

 

The breeze picked up, blowing her hair around and raising goosebumps across her skin.

 

“Cold?” he asked, already shifting to remove his sweatshirt.

 

“It's fine you don't have to do that,” she protested, wrapping her free arm rightly across her chest.

 

He decided to leave it alone for a while, watching the wind blow through her hair, making a mess of her t-shirt and whistling past them. It blew around without much purpose, kicking up sand and carrying away palm leaves and the salt in the air.

 

“Do you ever think thats what life is supposed to be?” she asked suddenly. “Just accidentally. Like the breeze just picks us up and carries us off to some random destination?” and unspoken: _maybe that's why it can be so cold._

 

“Sort of,” he agreed, looking down at their joined hands. “But I think we have a say in what happens to us. We can choose what to hold onto, and what to let go of. We have choices, Clarke.”

 

He handed her his sweatshirt. Because she was shivering, and because he may have wanted to see what she looked like in his clothes. He was happy to admit that she looked warm. And that she was smiling when she tugged it over her shoulders.

 

“How did we get here?” she asked, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. Bare from the lack of sleeves his shirt provided.

 

“We let ourselves start feeling something good. Because the beach is something good. You’re something good. And I feel really good about you.”

 

Part of him screamed that he shouldn't kiss her. Not here when everything was still so uncertain. When she was still healing, and figuring things out. But there was more of him who couldn't help but want to. Who wanted to chose her. To choose this moment. To keep this memory.

 

“I want to kiss you,” he confesses. “I want to kiss you all the time. And this is me choosing to ignore you,” he continues. “about how I shouldn't fall in love with girls like you. Because how could I not?”

 

She froze. And the breeze stopped blowing. Their foreheads touching now. She closes her eyes, breathing him in and wondering. Wondering what it would be like if she allowed herself this moment to keep.

 

She does. And they kiss for a while under the stars, beside the fire, the breeze whirling around them gently. Not so much as to disturb them, but apparent enough that they're aware.

 

They part when neither of them can breath. When they've become so overwhelmed with each other's intensity that they had to stop themselves short.

 

They didn't talk about it when they went to bed. They didn't talk about it when they woke up the next morning. But they both knew it meant something.

 

They would both remember.

  


+i.

 

The next night, the night before they left, Octavia went to visit the guy from the surf shop. Bellamy read while clarke wandered the shore.

 

Clarke looked up, seeing that clouds were beginning to drape themselves across the setting sun, turning the whole sky a warm salmon color. She breathed in, feeling the breeze tickle her skin, and the coolness of it bring bumps onto her bare legs. She'd been standing at the same place on the shoreline for maybe twenty minutes, and she knew that Bellamy was watching her.

 

She knew he would act like he hadn't been, but Clarke had a way of knowing when Bellamy was looking her way and how. She could feel his eyes on the tips of her fingers as they stretched out like starfish, weaving themselves through the salty air as it flowed around her. She could feel them on what was left of her ankles as the damp sand pooled at her feet. She could feel them on her back, where she sported his worn grey sweatshirt. The one she'd stolen during their night spent talking by the fire. She could feel them everywhere.

 

Everywhere that was her, there was Bellamy.  

 

"Care to join?" she asked quietly, knowing full well that he could hear her just fine.

 

He shuffled towards her, standing so that their shoulders were barely brushing.

 

"Isn't it beautiful?" She asked, more to herself than to him. "I'm gonna paint this one day. Just like this."  

 

"What are you doing out here?"

 

"I'm sinking," she told him plainly. "Look," she said, gesturing to her feet, which were now completely submerged in the water. "Every time the water goes out, it pulls me further under."

 

"Why?" He asked, with genuine curiosity. "Why would you want to sink?" he clarified.

 

"Wells and I used to. In the summer. We thought maybe if we became the beach- became one with the beach, that we wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore. That all our problems would be carried away with the sea. I wouldn't have to deal with dad's condition, and later his death, and Well's wouldn't have to deal with his controlling dad, and the life he was expected to lead."

 

"What is it carrying away now?" He asked, finally turning to look at her.

 

"Just some thoughts of mine I've been avoiding."

 

"Is this about what I said yesterday?"

 

"I'm just scared that it's going to be different when we go back, that we're going to feel differently back home. I don't want that."

 

He was quiet for another breath or two before he took her hand, for the first time since the night before.

 

"I want you to remember something for me," He started, tugging at her so she would look him in the eye. She nodded. "I want you to think of this sandollar as me, okay?" He said, picking one up out of the rush of foam at their feet. She giggled for a second, before biting her lip, knowing that he was being serious. "You're the ocean. You said so yourself. You're one with the ocean. And I'm this sand dollar, it doesn't look like much, but when all the pieces fit together it's something people can admire. And you're the ocean, Clarke." He put the sand dollar back down in between their feet. "And the ocean can pick up this fragile, broken little sand dollar and carry it out somewhere it might never come back from. So I'm not taking back what I said, Clarke. You've already pulled me in, way out there in the sea somewhere, and I don't think I can come back."

 

She considered his metaphor for a minute, and albeit a little hasty and incomplete, it was all Bellamy and she understood perfectly.

 

Without another word she turned to face him fully, the sand sticking between her toes and the saltwater stinging her calves, and pressed their foreheads together.

 

"I don't want to hurt anymore."

 

"You won't."

 

"Promise?" She asked, looking down at the ground instead of into his eyes. Her blue eyes finding a home in the water that matched them at her feet.  He wasn't sure why she was nervous to ask this of him. She'd been asking people for promises her entire life. She'd asked Wells to promise her to be safe in Afghanistan, she'd asked her father to promise and stay with her one more year, she'd asked Lexa to promise not to give up on what they could have had, and she'd even asked Bellamy to promise he wouldn't fall in love with her. None of them kept their word.

 

"Aren't you tired of hearing promises?" He asked, hands sliding up to frame her face, grains from the sandy earth sticking to his palms still, scratching at her skin and bringing her some kind of comfort. "I swear to you on every drop of water in that ocean, on every grain of sand on this beach, that I will never hurt you. If you want me to count them and say it again, I will. That's not just some hallmark card shit, that's all I've got, and you're all I want."

 

She kissed him for the second time, and it tasted like the way the air did. A little cold, salty, and comforting. They clung to each other like leftover seaweed after a day of swimming in the sea, like sand onto toes and the hairs sticking to the backs of their sweaty necks. They couldn't bare to let go. Not after all the time they had wasted.

 

She encircled herself around his waist and he started to carry them back to their room, his hands mapping out the expanse of her back while still managing to keep her suspended. They learned each others mouths so quickly it may have seemed they were supposed to do this all along.

 

“I love you, Bellamy,” she says against his lips, breathing shackled by the pace of her heart, steady going at a rate much higher than it had been moments before, because his lips were on hers, and his hands were in his hair and they were falling onto the ground, his knees growing weak when he heard the words tumble out. “I love you. Can’t you hear the ocean? It’s telling me so.”

 

“How can you tell?” He asks, just as breathless as her as he sweeps the tangled locks of blonde away from her eyes, staring down at her kiss swollen lips and sun pink cheeks, breathing onto him like the afternoon breeze they just felt together.

 

“The sea and the land are meant to coincide, Bell, don’t you see,” she says, laying her head down onto his chest and pointing out at the coastline. “The ocean and the sand are mixing together, washing into one another and dancing. And it’s you and me, it’s this whole time we’ve been out here. Always thinking we were meant to stay apart when there's nothing more I could want than to be right here. With you.”

 

He smiles, kissing her soundly, and lacing their fingers together. Many of the other beach-goers had already left with the sun, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to greet the moon alone.

 

“I love you too, Clarke.”

 

And it’s enough for them to be carried away by each other.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are much appreciated!! (seriously I live for the attention okay?)


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